Tag Archives: pancreatic cancer

Continuing on from last week’s post, I bring you this, Nick’s last day in hospital:

Thursday Night:

Nick had drifted off to sleep, while I lay on the stretcher besides him. His health that day had steadily declined to a point where he wasn’t able to communicate much, and when he did his voice was just a whisper. He’d barely been out of his bed in over 24 hours. The once rowdy, confident Nick of old was gone, replaced by this quiet, raspy voiced person instead. His face was angular, having lost all of its plumpness and his body wasn’t much more than skin and bones.

I couldn’t believe we’d ended up here, but yet we were. Only 7 months earlier, we’d had it all and now I was contemplating a future alone, without my partner in love and life. But still, I stay focused and strong, Nick needed me now, and we vowed to stay positive, always, and one thing we never did, was ask ‘why us?’, I wasn’t about to start now.

Nick and I in happier times, note the rainbow in the background!

Halfway through the night, I remember him waking me up to say he needed to go to the bathroom. He motioned to the bathroom door and started to try and get up. I went to him to assist, but he pushed me away, showing he wanted to do it alone and he did, just like that. He steadied himself on the side of the bed and lifted his torso up and starting the few steps to the bathroom door, not saying very much, just mumbling as he went.

I stood behind him, ready to catch him, but he seemed strong, shuffling his way across the floor. I was secretly thrilled, watching him do this alone, when he’d needed assistance before. It gave me hope that maybe things were turning around. He started shuffling back to bed, again unassisted, though I helped him swing his legs up onto the bed and he went back to sleep. Me with a big smile on my face, thinking in the morning, we are finally going to have good news, this had to be a sign!

Friday:

Next morning, I start about my normal routine, making my bed, folding sheets away, and getting ready to head back to the apartment to shower and change. Nick wasn’t very responsive, but I put that down to the morphine working its magic. His oncologist came in to check on him with more tests, I started to rattle off, how Nick had walked unassisted and it was a good sign, blah, blah, blah…apparently I wasn’t quite the nurse I thought I was.

Within a half hour of his visit, and me almost on my way out back home, the doctor came to me outside the room and said, ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea you go anywhere, Nick doesn’t have long to go and I’d hate for you to not be here.’ Uhh, doctor said what ???

Although this was something we knew would happen eventually, from the week starting off so well, I couldn’t have imagined that the last two days meant the end, right now! But, seeing him laying in his hospital bed, a shadow of his former self, his body once strong, was now giving up its fight, there was nothing left to give, he couldn’t go on, I understood what had to happen next.

Apparently, his final act of walking himself to the bathroom, is a common occurrence in people who are near the end, they somehow find this last store of energy to use. Have you ever witnessed this?

Anyway, I dove straight into action, telling everyone who’d listen that we had to get him home. I spoke softly to him and told him I was taking him home, he nodded with a faint smile, acknowledging what i’d said, he knew his time had come.

The ambulance would take us and i’d follow in my car, Nick tried to speak, he was telling me he wanted me in the ambulance with him, and then the thought occurred, that if he didn’t make the ride home, I wouldn’t be with him. Change tactics, I called his good friend, John to meet me at the hospital to drive my car, so I could ride with him instead. Sorted.

The palliative care team were sent to the room to speak to me, to discuss end of life options and support for me after his death, I told them I was fine and thanked them for coming by. They said, ‘You do realise Nick isn’t going to make it and the end has come’, but I was prepared and standing around talking to a bunch of ladies about it, was taking me away from my final hours with Nick.

I was given bags of medication to take with us, since we were going home, we were also going it alone, without doctor assistance. I didn’t really know what that meant, at that stage, just that it was Nick’s last wish and I was going to make it happen. Our oncologist and another good doctor friend, came past and briefed me on what might happen when the end came, I think anyone else might have fainted having to hear worst case scenarios, but I took it all in and hoped for the best.

Then came the farewells, nurses, doctors, other patients, receptionists, our beautiful pharmacist friend, it was a steady stream of people who Nick had touched so dearly in his time there. The news had travelled fast. Some couldn’t come into the room, not wanting to see him like that, how far he’d deteriorated, they called me outside instead, to pass me their details and give me a hug. There were tears as we said our goodbyes, knowing we’d never be back there and I could never re-pay them for the friendship and support they’d given us.

I started making phone calls to our families, to meet us at home, the news was less than welcomed, but I knew he’d want them with us when the time came.

And soon, it was time to leave the hospital, the ambulance had arrived, we were going home. and I was ready.

I’ll end this here and I want to include the below video of Nick in better health, the date is 28th September, 2010. This video is far less emotional than the last I shared.

It shows Nick talking about his chemo treatment and as always, his love for his baby girl, Claudia. I like that it shows his strength, in trying to maintain as normal a life as he could, under the circumstances.

As he said, he kept soldiering on and never gave up hope, because everyday is a new day!

I think that’s something we should all remember, when you’re having a bad day, when the kids are crying, when your work day hasn’t gone as planned, when you ruin your new favourite shoes, everyday is a new day and a chance to do over and start again.

Having perspective over these type of issues, is what will see you through the hard days, because life isn’t perfect, its made up of lots of less than perfect moments, but it’s how you react to those times, that make you a stronger person.

Without Nick battling and losing his fight, I might not have learnt this life lesson, which is why I am grateful for him and everyday I have been given.

Thank you for reading, i’ll pick this up again next week, please continue to share, like, comment, it means the world to me to get Nick’s message across, life is precious.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this post!

Til next week, Michela x

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Today, i’ll focus on Nick’s final few days, you’ll find the beginning of this here, I did go off on a tangent last week and posted the footage of Nick beginning his video documentary to our daughter Claudia. Thank you to everyone for your beautiful comments and messages I received following my last post, it touched so many people, including those that have never met us.

So, if you’ll forgive me for a short time, I want to again move again from the sequence of events, and mention last night’s premiere episode of Offspring, Season 5. If you live in Australia, you’ll know of this, and you may well have seen it, as 868,000 of us did! I’ve always watched it, thanks to my girlfriend Cathryn and our Wednesday gourmet pizza and Offspring night, but only now has it resonated so much with me.

Watch the below clip for the overview of Season 5 if you haven’t seen this already, it’s me 3 & 1/2 years ago:

As per the episode last night:

1. Both Nina (the main character) and I lost our partners and were left with a baby girl to raise

2. Both returned to work 6 months after their passing, but were perfectly happy in the cocoon of home life with family and close friends.

3. Both hated the pity faces people gave you when you mentioned you were a widow, but also noticed how weird people acted around us, not knowing what to do/say

4. Scared of scarring my daughter when she was so young, have tried to keep her protected from anyone’s grief, always talking of happy times with her Dad instead.

4. I also pretended Nick was still with me at times in the early days, I still talk out loud to him now! Yes, Nick, that’s you i’m always talking to!

5. And I also asked myself many times, ‘Can I do this?’, be a single mum, raise a child, be me again ???

So needless to say, I cried last night, along with many others watching i’m sure, but it felt so real to me. without the maxi skirts and being a doctor part!. I’m not sure how it’s going to play out from here, but i’ll be watching and I’ll will be writing future posts about this time for me, let me know if you’d like to hear about it ?

On with Nick’s story:

In healthier times, with Claudia at 2 months

Wednesday:

The operation was off. They told us Nick wasn’t going to be strong enough to survive the operation. They told us this could be the beginning of the end. They told us it might resolve itself, maybe. But, Nick wasn’t getting any better, he’d barely eaten since he’d been admitted on the Sunday night, he was looking thinner than ever and was sleeping most of the day.

On Wednesday, he must have been getting nervous about what might be coming, he asked me to fetch his laptop for him, he wanted to jump online and look at our financial situation (he was crazy organised, remember?) but he just couldn’t remember his log in password, he tried so many times, he was locked out. He was angry, he threw the laptop off the bed, I caught it and tried to calm him down. It was the time, I think, he finally realised he wasn’t himself anymore. I tried to tell him it was all the medication fogging his mind. Of course, he couldn’t remember some stupid numbers, but he knew, he said, ‘Chel, i’ve been using the same password for 10 years, what’s wrong with me?’ Broke my heart, it was like a light bulb moment for him.

Our doctors that day, had pulled me aside to say he had a 50/50 chance of pulling through this, but not to get my hopes up just yet.

I’m grateful though that we had a very honest discussion that day, in a moment of clarity for Nick. We had always discussed were he wanted to be when the end came, but that Wednesday, I sat on the bed and we spoke again. He said, if the end comes, and you have the time to decide, take me home, don’t let me die here. I promised i’d do my best to make that happen, and we cried together with our baby girl between us.

Later that night, one of Nick’s best mates, Bill called me and asked if he could come past for a visit. I said no, he wasn’t up to visitors, he’d been inundated all day and needed his rest. Me just being all protective of him. I got off the phone and told Nick, he yelled at me, ‘tell him to come and bring all the boys, I want to see everyone, wives too.’ I sheepishly rang Bill back, apologised and told them to come in. And they all did, they filled his hospital room and for that short time, he was himself again, he joked and laughed, they shared stories and called each other ‘Dickhead’ a lot. I think it was his way of saying goodbye to them all, his best friends from primary school, who knew him so well, over 25 years of friendship with each of them.

Nick’s last birthday 16th March 2010

Thursday:

Nick woke up and wasn’t well at all, the Doctors were in and out of the room, performing tests etc. I was starting to get more concerned, there was no improvement in his condition, but they weren’t saying much. I went about my day, draining his ascities and changing over his hot gel packs when they cooled to give him some comfort. (yes, walking right into the nurses station, like I was one of them. The nurses had also taught me how to continue his morphine drip when it kinked and stopped, to avoid that annoying beeping it made!) I was doing all I could to keep him comfy and to keep things as ‘normal’ as I could. Meanwhile, visitors kept coming, our daughter was bought in to hang out and all our parents and close family had been dropping in everyday, which is when I would quickly drive back to the apartment to shower and grab clothes.

On the Thursday afternoon, one of his good mates had come in and Nick had again turned on the charm and acted ‘well enough’, I walked his friend out to the lift area and said, ‘you know this is probably the end now, thanks for coming to say goodbye’, he broke down on me, this great big guy, just started bawling. He couldn’t believe what I was saying, we sat on the couch by the lift, as he composed himself, ‘Nick can’t die’ he kept saying, ‘he can’t’, he left in tears and I think it was my first taste of what was to come.

While Nick and I had been nothing but honest with everyone, telling them his cancer was terminal and would take his life, the reality of it was something different. I could understand everyone wanting to deny it, but it was my living reality, we were under no illusions.

That night our Doctor came to visit and wanted to speak to me alone, I said anything he had to say, he could say in front of Nick, who at this stage was doped up and drifting in and out of being aware. But, he told me to prepare for the worst, things weren’t going to get better. This was going to be the end for Nick and at this rate it was going to come sooner rather than later. He apologised for having to tell us that news, he had wanted to give us a happier ending.

We went to sleep that night, side by side in his hospital room. Not knowing my world was about to be turned on its head in less than 30 short hours.

I’ll leave it here, but will add a short note, I have been to a couple of functions in the last few weeks and want to say, if you are reading along and see me out, please come up and have a chat, I love hearing from you. I promise you won’t bring me to tears, I can talk about it all day, if I see you backing away slowly from me, i’ll know i’ve gone on too long!

And I love knowing your thoughts, so please continue to read, comment, like, share on Facebook, you never know who might come across this and find some inspiration from it.

Til next week, Michela x

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I’ll apologise in advance for not picking up today where I left off last week, but i’ve been wanting to share some video footage with you for so long.

Below is a video of Nick’s First Video Entry on the documentary he started for our daughter Claudia, once he discovered he had pancreatic cancer and wouldn’t be around much longer.

Today’s post will be short in words, but full of emotion.

WARNING: if you were a person close to Nick, you may find the below footage too emotional to watch, I know, because my sister still can’t sit through it. I, on the other hand, love watching the documentary he made, and can smile and laugh along with him.

I hope by sharing this video, you gain further insight into why i’m writing this blog, as a way of keeping Nick’s memory alive, and not just for our daughter, (who’s going to be 5 this year!) but also for our family and friends and anyone who knew Nick.

As per the video, Nick just wanted to be remembered, and while the documentary is a perfect legacy that he’s left behind, so are the beautiful messages, comments, emails etc, that I have received about Nick since launching this site. They are all being stored away for Claudia to read one day, so please keep them coming, I can’t think of a better way for her to know her Dad, than by reading about him from his friends, family, colleagues etc.

I also know there are people reading along, who have never met Nick, so I hope this shows you a little more about us, and the strength he had, to put this video together, after receiving such a terrible diagnosis.

When watching this video I barely recognise myself, since I have changed so much since this was filmed over 3 years ago. I’m a much stronger, positive, independent woman now, all thanks to Nick and what he taught me during his illness.

Without further ado, please find the video below, if you haven’t already skipped all this writing to watch it yet!

So, you crying yet ? Maybe just a slight tear, because if you haven’t gotten emotional watching this, you must be a robot! Ok, just kidding!

I hope you enjoyed this post, let me know if you’d like to see any more video’s, I have 8 hours of footage to sift through!

Til next time, Michela xx

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And so following on from last week I continue on with this: his final week.

So, I was awakened to Nick asking me for an ambulance, it was about midnight on a Sunday long weekend. I started whispering to him, ‘what’s wrong, are you sure you need an ambulance?’ Me being Miss Doubtful..

The truth was throughout his illness, we had avoided the ambulance call, that nervous call you make, explaining symptoms and address details. I had been the ambulance driver so far, (not crazy fast driving, but you get what I mean!) and living so close to the hospital in the city, meant it was generally quicker to get ourselves there.

That’s why I knew it was serious when he asked me to call an ambulance, though I was still secretly hoping it was a joke. Don’t forgot we were approx an 1.5 hours from the Epworth hospital in Richmond, where he received his treatments. So, once I realised what we had to do, I woke my parents and we went into action mode.

I called the ambulance telling them Nick was having sharp pains in his stomach and chest. Painful enough that he knew something had happened. He kept mostly still on the side of our bed, as I spoke to the operator, doing my best to state the urgency of our situation, while having Nick in the background shouting, ‘i’m not getting in the ambulance, if they don’t take me to Epworth’.

Of course, she couldn’t promise this, saying if it was an emergency, they’d take him to the nearest hospital, which in our case was the public one in Epping. Nick just wanted to go straight to where they knew him well and we wouldn’t have to go through all the details about his condition and treatment, over again and again!

I was doing a fine job of this over the phone already, but it was still freaking Nick out, all he kept saying was, ‘get me to Epworth’. So, an ambulance was dispatched, and we set about getting ready to for the pick up.

Except one problem, my parents property is down a mostly dirt road, of which there is only 3 properties, with no street lights. We were so concerned they’d miss us, my Dad went out to the main road holding a torch and a lantern, so he could motion to the ambulance when they got close. All the while our daughter slept on peacefully, even when the ambulance arrived, lights flashing and siren wailing!

And we had two lots of assistance, firstly 2 local paramedics arrived, as they were unsure how long it would take for another to get to us, and I had stressed how serious a situation this was. They administered some morphine and waited with us for the next ambulance to arrive. I went through Nick’s history with them, while making coffee and packing our bags.

Then the second ambulance arrived, I again spoke at length, to all 4 paramedics, detailing his condition and medications etc and we were finally on our way. Phew!!

I can remember the paramedics commending me on my calmness and efficiency that night, asking if I was an actual nurse, *’why yes I am, but I only have one patient, I work at the Kosmas Hospital up the road.’

*not actual conversation, i’m not really a nurse!

It was decided, Mum would ride in the ambulance with Nick, while I dropped our daughter off at Nick’s parents place, to then make my way to the hospital.

Mum tells the story, that the ambulance didn’t have the medication needed to help Nick with his pain relief and they even had to stop midway, and meet up with another ambulance to swap supplies. This was a mammoth journey for Nick, who only wanted to get to Epworth and be around familiar faces. He did get his way, and they took him there, but Mum says, he yelled the whole way, warning them not to stop at Epping. Even sick, Nick could be very persuasive!

His final photo with Claudia, our daughter

I got to the hospital at around 2.30am, he was sedated and sleeping, my Mum sat by his side. No one had any answers yet, they’d have to wait til morning to run some tests, it was a long night. Mum and I tried the best we could to sleep on the hard plastic chairs next to his bed, but sleep didn’t come, we waited for the sun to rise and Nick to wake up instead.

Monday morning came, they rushed him into X-ray and ran the necessary tests and finally the news from his oncologist, Nick had a blockage to his stomach and small bowel. No real reason why, just because. It’s what end stage pancreatic cancer does. Ain’t that fair? Our oncologist told us there was an operation they could attempt to fix it, but they’d have to wait a couple of days before deciding if Nick’s body was up to it.

Monday wasn’t an altogether bad day, we were still hopefully that he’d have the operation and be done with it. Our oncologist wanted to confer with his fellow doctors and was going to bring Nick’s case to a conference call he was having the following morning. Nick was fine, dosed up on medication, but chatting away and happy enough. I got his parents to bring our daughter in for a play and as far as we were concerned it was just another hurdle to jump.

Later that night, Nick confessed that he didn’t want me to leave him alone at hospital. He never wanted to stay overnight as per my previous post, but now he didn’t want to stay alone there either. So, I rushed back to the apartment, had a quick shower, grabbed some clothes and I was back by his side. I started living there with him that week, sleeping on a stretcher bed besides him.

I think Nick knew it was serious and couldn’t stand the thought of being without me. Secretly, this new issue, scared the hell out of me, if they decided to go ahead with the operation, his oncologist had warned me, he might not survive it, and of he did, the recovery would mean 8 weeks hospital stay. I thought that might kill him alone! But, we were at the mercy of the surgeon who would do the operation, and we were yet to have a visit from him, anything could still happen.

Nick was now on constant pain relief medication, and not eating very much at all. Well, he couldn’t, the blockage to his stomach meant the food had no where to go. He wasn’t hungry either, but they had him on an IV drip giving him the nutrients he needed. He was finding it difficult to walk around, but was sitting up in bed, being his usual smart arse self, when visitors started to come by.

Christmas Day 2010, still feeling well

Then came Tuesday, Nick’s oncologist and the surgeon came to visit, they still weren’t sure the operation would be a success. The conference call consensus had been mostly, ‘no, he won’t survive it.’ The surgeon mostly agreed, he told us he wanted to do it because he wanted to give Nick and I some more life together, but given Nick’s condition, it would be very dangerous and there was no guarantees. Nick pleaded with him to do it, but I wasn’t so sure, I didn’t want him to die on the operating table. But, at this stage, there was still a chance they would operate and insert a stent, a tube like device to keep the passage open and to help him live a little longer.

More people had heard Nick was in hospital now and he was enjoying the visits. Did you visit Nick, what was his mood like? Most people will say, they never knew how sick he really was at this stage, as always, he hid it well. When they’d leave, he’d sink into his pillow and drift off to sleep. I’d take the oppurtunity to run down stairs and grab a coffee.

Everyone knew us at the hospital, I always said, i’d knew we’d been around there too long, when I was able to get around and help visitors lost in the foyer, directing them where they needed to go. Knowing the shortcuts and when the fresh sandwiches were delivered to the cafe. My walks around took twice as long, as I got stopped all along the way, people wanting to know how Nick was doing, how Claudia was and how we were holding up. Staff in the kiosk, pharmacy, cafe, nurses, doctors, other patients etc, Nick had an impact on everyone he met. And having someone so young with such a terminal disease, touched so many hearts there. Some of these people still, 3 years later, keep in touch with.

One of the beautiful friends we made was Talia, who worked at Epworth, she messaged me recently to say, ‘Nick and you were the first young couple I had ever met who showed me what true love was all about..’. 3 years on, she still carries this thought with her, that’s impact for you!

But, back to the week at hand, by Wednesday things were starting to turn, the operation was officially called off. We knew this wasn’t going to end well, the obstruction wouldn’t un-do itself and we knew he couldn’t live with it either.

I’ll leave it there for now, i’ll pick up same place, same time next week.

Thanks for reading along, commenting, sharing and liking, means the world to me and Nick too, i’m sure!